Love Grows
by Clarice Starling
Summary: CH 4 FINALLY UP!!!Clarice is fixed on getting out of the hospital,and persuing her obsession. Will she find a way? SEQUEL TO 'SHIVER'.R&R!!
1. Default Chapter

~Usual Disclaimers apply. Well, well, dear ones. Welcome back for the second edition to this crazy (no pun intended) journey through the life of Clarice Starling. These chapters will be more in depth, more complex than my other story. No, I won't give anything away as I have before. This time around, I won't be so giving. BUT, I can say one thing. How could I make a story about two main characters and only use one? With that said, and no money for me, I welcome you to come with me and step into the story. Let the show begin! C.S.~  
  
Clarice Starling sat in the T.V. room of the Baltimore Hospital Psychotic Ward. She was perched on the window sill, her slender fingers looped in the holes of the wire that protected the glass. Her eyes where fixated on the green grass below.  
  
She knew she had nothing to look forward to anymore. After a while, the letters from her brother Julian stopped coming, and the phone calls from Delia and some other agents died out as well. No one thought she was getting out, and she was starting to wonder about it herself.  
  
The T.V. was off, which made her wonder why so many patients decided to stare at the blank screen. She suddenly remembered where she was. She took being here as a slap in the face, not really a life, but a watcher, someone looking in on themselves from another world completely. It was getting quiet in there, which was unusual. Most of the time, the screaming or crying never died down, and made her want more of the sleeping pills they doled out at night.  
  
She sometimes filled her days playing the piano in the music room, which substituted as an art room as well, or just laying in her room, listening to the music drown out the sounds of the insane. Other times, she'd sing by herself, thinking up songs out of nowhere that had once filled her house, and in a way, filled this place as well. Which she'd decided to do today.  
  
It wasn't as pleasing as it had been, this place not being as familiar and comfortable. But it was also nice not to be hounded by rumors that where probably true, only to have to lie about them later. She knew thousands where flying around when she first got there, and she wondered from time to time if they hadn't just given up trying to get stories and forgotten her all together.  
  
Clarice opened her mouth to sing, and for a while, her eyes enchanted by the sudden bright green in the grass, nothing came out. She eventually found her voice again, and though she usually sang quietly, she figured it was better to get things loud again. She didn't notice the shock on the nurses faces when she sang so loudly, but not because she was bad. It was because most of the people here couldn't sing, although they tried. She was the first one to actually carry a tune she said she could carry, and not make an ass of herself.  
  
Eventually, she lit a cigarette up, and smoked it slowly. It was her third one in a row. She felt nervous around this time of year, when the leaves where turning and the breeze got cooler. It was HIS time of year. She always seemed to find him around those ten years in this certain time of year, even when she'd been sent to question him.  
  
Mostly, this time of year had made her nervous because it was usually when his case was brought up, and she'd will him away with her mind.  
  
Now, she tried to will him back again.  
  
She couldn't help but wish, which was usually what sent her dreams so out of control and confusing. What really confused her, what really consumed her every sense, was the fact that she wanted him around her all the time. And that in itself was an understatement.  
  
She took another long hit and wondered what he'd say if he saw her now. If he'd be mad at her for giving up, which was what she'd done in her eyes. The lambs always started screaming if he stayed away too long. They'd been screaming since he'd left her at the lake house. Her mind went back to that night.  
  
She was standing against the refrigerator, her hair caught in the door, the handle broken off. He was so close to her she could feel his breath on her skin. He spoke to her.  
  
"Tell me, Clarice. Would you ever say to me, 'Stop. If you loved me, you'd stop.' ?"  
  
She answered him honestly, although she blamed it on the morphine.  
  
"Not in a thousand years. "  
  
"Not in a thousand years," he'd repeated.  
  
He'd come so close to her by then, his teeth bared, that she almost wanted to reach out to him. She was so sorry she didn't.  
  
"That's my girl…"  
  
And then he kissed her. What she'd felt in that kiss cleared her mind, made her truly feel how she needed to feel. It sent her spinning backwards and into a trance. Made her skin dance, her senses increase five fold. But she used instinct. Why the HELL had she chosen against kissing him back? She clicked the handcuffs around his wrist and hers, and was pleased yet saddened when she saw that she'd surprised him. He'd broken the kiss and asked her for the key. The intensity of the kiss still ran through her, and she couldn't speak. Oh, she wanted to, but she couldn't find her voice. That's when he'd picked up the cleaver and held it in his hand high above their bound wrists.  
  
The burning sensation on her fingers brought her back to the present, and she glanced down. The cigarette had burned down, now fully gone, and singed the fragile skin of her index and middle fingers. She dropped it into the ashtray she'd set beside her and held the fingers in her mouth.  
  
From deep within her, she felt that aching, that wanting coming back again. She felt it every time she thought about him. About his deep maroon eyes, and his strong figure. The way he'd stood to greet her when she'd first ever laid eyes on him. She shivered as a thought crossed her mind.  
  
Junkfood tastes so good because it's bad for you.  
  
Oh god, she didn't disagree with that. She still hadn't brought the word love into her feelings for this man, but she was getting closer to blurting it out now and then in group therapy. Random song lyrics floated into her head that reminded her of him.  
  
Animals and children tell the truth, they never lie. Which one is more human? There's a thought, now you decide.  
  
I believe your most attractive features are your heart and soul.  
  
I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye.  
  
Why does the color of my coffee match your eyes?  
  
You make every thought a chain reaction.  
  
You said hello, and the next thing I know, I'm ready to risk being hurt.  
  
Forgiveness is the key to your unhappiness.  
  
God does not endorse T.V. evangelists.  
  
I knew I loved you before I met you.  
  
Never want to fight, never want to leave, never want to say what you mean to me.  
  
Never want to run, frightened to believe, you're the best thing about me.  
  
Clarice sighed. Her eyes went from the floor to back out the window, and she saw that same black pickup. This time, it was facing the hospital, and she blinked a few times as it pulled out. Was it? Could it have been? It looked just like him. Oh god, she thought. Maybe my mind IS running away and leaving my far behind. Or maybe, just maybe, God decided to answer my prayer, and this time it wasn't "No".  
  
Clarice Starling then shivered. 


	2. The Truth

~Usual disclaimers apply. Credit goes to Silver Falls for this chapter. You gave me A LOT of ideas; I would have never gotten through this chapter without them. Thanks. Oh, and I know I skipped from fall to winter, but trust me, nothing happened in between the two seasons. It would have been boring to tell you how she sits around all day and talks to a therapist. On with the show! C.S. ~  
  
It was snowing. Clarice glanced from her book to the window every few minutes to make sure it was still falling. Everyone seemed to be gathered around the several windows, dazed by the snowflakes, in some sort of trance.  
  
Not Clarice.  
  
It was her third Christmas here, alone, without any real friends. She only had one here, and it was weird that she only had one on the outside as well. It didn't matter much to her if Christmas came, or just stayed away somewhere, hidden from view. It would all be the same to her.  
  
She sighed and tried to concentrate on the page in her book. The words where getting harder to read, not because she was illiterate, but because she was distracted. She was so restless here, and it was getting a lot worse.  
  
Clarice flipped ahead a few pages. She was reading "The Bell Jar" by Sylvia Plath. She eventually just shut the book and tossed it to the sofa beside her. She decided to get up and venture into the music/art room to play the piano. She was followed by a nurse, as she usually was. The nurse sat in a chair across from the piano and watched her.  
  
She let her fingers hover above the keys for a moment, then shut her eyes. She wasn't in the Christmas mood, and she didn't feel like singing anything joyful. She let her fingers play the melancholy notes of one of her new favorite songs. Her lips parted, and she drew in a breath before singing, her eyes shut the whole time, her fingers finding the keys on instinct.  
  
"Here I go. Restless heart. Another lovely misadventure in the dark. All my friends, who knew me well. Tell me not to wonder down that road again. What they don't know, what they can't see, is being on that road, it sets me free. Some say I'm running. I know I'm falling, back to you. The water's deep, under the bridge. As I pass by our old house up on the ridge. All our sins, have washed away. Now all that's left are all the things we didn't say. Oh restless heart, you beat so fast. While my mind is telling me that it won't last. Some say I'm running. I know I'm falling, back to you. Against the odds, I'll roll the dice. I guess my heart has won despite all good advice. So grab your things, and come on in-"  
  
Clarice was about to sing the next line when a voice sounded behind her. Eventually she realized the voice was saying her name, and she turned around, lifting her fingers from the keys. Her eyes widened.  
  
"Delia! What are you doing here?!"  
  
Delia laughed, "Is that any way to treat an old friend?"  
  
Clarice got up and almost ran to her. They hugged eachother tightly, smiles big on both of their faces.  
  
"God I missed you." Said Clarice.  
  
"I've missed you too, girl."  
  
Delia and Clarice walked into the hall. They had much to catch up on.  
  
"So, am I fired yet or do they still have hope?"  
  
Delia stopped smiling. "They uh, they thought it was best if they let you go…"  
  
She was surprised when she saw Clarice smile.  
  
"Well, at least now I can contact Lecter without them breathing down my neck."  
  
Delia knew about Lecter by then. Clarice had told her everything over the phone. She wasn't surprised when Delia was supportive in the end, although at first she was so mad she'd called her crazy, said she deserved to be there, and not talked to her for days after that. Delia nodded.  
  
"Still haven't heard from him yet?"  
  
"No…But I will. I know I will, I always do."  
  
"You know you gotta tell me when you do, girl, or I'll worry about it for the rest of my life."  
  
"I will, don't worry. In fact, I…"  
  
Delia stopped walking and leaned closer to Clarice. Clarice took a step back.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I think I saw him a while ago, in front of the hospital."  
  
Delia stepped closer, putting her arm around Clarice.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You heard me, Delia." Clarice said, wondering what the hell her problem was.  
  
"No I didn't, what did you say?"  
  
Why is she so close? Why did she suddenly put her arm around me? What's in her pocket?  
  
Then the channel switched and Clarice knew what was going on. A wire. Delia is wearing a fucking wire. Clarice burned inside, and wanted to react, but she kept herself calm. There was no way she was spending a night in Seclusion thanks to Delia.  
  
"I said I thought my brother was him a while ago, in front of the hospital. My wishful thinking at its worst."  
  
Delia was bad at hiding her disappointment. But her face went bright and she laughed, not realizing how incredibly fake it sounded.  
  
"Girl, you need to let it go."  
  
Clarice went from being mad, to being calm. Her eyes went blank and she turned and looked at Delia, no expression on her face. Delia let her arm fall to her side again.  
  
"Tell me Delia. When you finally catch him, and turn him in, and you're standing up on that big stage waving that reward around like some kind of God, thinking it will get better, thinking that those two strikes on your name will be erased, the being black, and being a woman, and you realize it won't ever change, that they'll always hold a higher power to the men no matter what you do, go down bleeding only to be in the spotlight for a few hours, then back under the water again, and suddenly you're alone with no friends at all, all because you lied to them to get right back to where you were, tell me…Will it be worth it?"  
  
Delia's features hardened, though Clarice could see tears in her eyes.  
  
"Yes." She said in a low voice.  
  
"Oh? And what about London, was that worth it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh don't play dumb, Ardelia, not now. When you where in London last year you met the love of your life, a man named Jason. He was everything you wanted, everything you needed. Yet you turned from him, you let him go, all just to get what you thought you wanted. Was it worth it? Huh? Was it worth it?"  
  
Tears where running down Delia's cheeks. She never cried, ever. This was something deep.  
  
"No…"  
  
"I thought not. And tell me Ardelia, when you go back out there with no information and another person is put on the job, and you're brushed off like a nobody, like you have been for years, will it all be worth it? Losing the only true friend you've ever had? I could hardly see how it would be, and let me tell you, regret is fucking hell out there in the real world. It's fucking hell. And when you look back and realize it was all just a poor excuse for fame, and want to change it, want to make it better, it'll be too late. It's already to late, Ardelia. Far too late."  
  
Clarice walked past Delia and into her room, slamming the door. Delia stood in the hallway, tears still fresh on her face from Clarice's words. They where all true. She ripped the wire out of her pocket and tore it in half, throwing it to the floor. A nurse came by and picked it up, almost forcing Delia out the door. Clarice watched through the window as Delia pulled out of the driveway, doing at least 50.  
  
It was the last time Clarice would ever see her alive. 


	3. Blood,Tears,and Fire

~Usual Disclaimers Apply. FINALLY GOT THIS CHAPTER UP!! Haha. Anyway, I hope you like it. It's kind of long, but I think I did well. Let me know what you think of it (a.k.a. R&R). Thanks! C.S. Oh, and I promise not to take so long next time. C.S.~  
  
Clarice Starling had never been one to enjoy family. Not since her father and mother had died and left her orphaned. But tonight, she needed to be loved. She needed to be secure in arms that loved her, telling her it was ok.  
  
She had just heard of Delia's death in a car accident on the radio, and it shook her into a thousand shattered pieces. Sure, they hadn't been on good terms when she left, but Clarice was still her friend. Now who did she have?  
  
She wasn't sure she wanted that answer.  
  
Now, laying on her back in the thing she called a room, in the place she'd been calling home for the past three years, she felt utterly alone. No… worse than that.  
  
Clarice Starling felt abandoned.  
  
It was only eight at night, and she'd only been laying there for a couple minutes. But to her, it felt like…  
  
"A thousand years…" she said outloud.  
  
Her roommate was gone, somewhere in one of the Seclusion rooms, no doubt, and Clarice didn't miss her at all. Angela was a true sociopath. A real son- of-a-bitch who didn't care about anyone or anything. She reminded Clarice of Paul Krendler. A sigh escaped her lips as she heard the knock on her door. She sat up.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Clarice, you got a phone call."  
  
Clarice stared at the door. Probably one of the Agents at the station telling her to come get her shit ASAP or they'd haul it away. She honestly didn't care.  
  
She got herself out of bed and walked into the sad, dreary hallway. She was getting sick of the pale blue and puke yellow she saw all the time, and the sickening peach color got on her nerves. That was funny, weren't they suppose to calm you? Clarice chuckled.  
  
How someone could ever be calm in a place like this was beyond her. She slumped down into the small phone booth and picked up the receiver, waiting until she heard the nurse click off to say something.  
  
She propped the phone between her cheek and her ear.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Well, Clarice, I see you've finally let the battle wind your mind."  
  
The voice that filled her ear made blood churn with heat like desire. She tensed her back and thighs, her hands gripping the still air, trying to find their way to the hard wood in front of her.  
  
Her voice wasn't willing to work as well as she'd hoped it would.  
  
"Hello Doctor…" she cleared her throat. "Hello, Doctor Lecter…"  
  
"My, my, you sound horrible Clarice. I do hope they're treating you better."  
  
"I'm fine, Doctor." She said, answering a question not yet asked.  
  
"No, you're certainly not fine, Clarice. I heard about your friend, Agent Mapp. I am truly sorry to hear of it."  
  
Her voice was shaky, but she fought back the sob.  
  
"Yeah, so am I…Not to be rude, Doctor, but is there a reason you called me here?"  
  
She was fighting so hard not to cry to him, not to let him comfort her. Trying so damned hard, and yet she felt she was failing.  
  
"Come now Clarice, can't a person check up on an old friend?"  
  
The word came to her like her heartbeats did.  
  
Friend.  
  
Friend.  
  
Friend.  
  
"Or dare I say, an object of that persons affection?"  
  
At that moment, the flames that had been turning her blood to a boil shot up high, claiming her senses and turning her dark eyes lurid with a carnival light. Oh god, she almost forgot to speak.  
  
"A what?" her voice came to him, merely a whisper.  
  
"So I see you haven't stopped fighting, Clarice."  
  
"Yes I have."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"I wanted to go with you that night, Doctor. At the lake house. Not really to become anything more, but just to figure out what I wanted. What I needed. To get far away from this place and just live for once. I'm gonna die if I don't break free."  
  
"Do you believe in love, Clarice?"  
  
The question made the flames in her eyes dance as sparks took the place of her pupils.  
  
"Very much, Doctor."  
  
"But you've been let down so many times in the past. How do you know it won't be the wrong choice?"  
  
"Life, Doctor Lecter, is full of wrong choices. And one of them was never being able to figure out if the other would be wrong or not."  
  
He didn't respond, so she continued.  
  
"By that I mean not telling you where the key was. Or telling you why I chose the handcuffs over just letting you go, which, by the way, you knew was going to happen. I was more than upset when you left me at the lake house, only to go back to the FBI, and all the rumors. Then I ended up here. They fired me, obviously. The only thing I regret is not asking you if I could go."  
  
By now, the flames where long gone, and the coldness had returned as she sobbed into the phone, cradling the receiver against her ear, thinking that if maybe she held onto it tight enough, he could reach through and hug her.  
  
She needed a hug right about now.  
  
It was funny how the only psychologist in the world that could break her shell had nothing to do with the hospital they'd put her in to get her so- called recovery.  
  
He still hadn't responded, but she could hear his breathing on the other end. He barely heard what she mumbled next.  
  
"I think I love you…"  
  
He didn't have time to respond. At that moment, the line went dead.  
  
She slammed the phone down, wiping away her tears. She knew it was rude not to tell him goodbye, but it was harder to accept that she couldn't see him. She went through the nights actions in a daze.  
  
Night time meds.  
  
Going to bed.  
  
Listening as the nurse came by for checks.  
  
She didn't know when she'd finally slipped into dreamland, but when she did, it was filled with memories she'd almost forgotten. Ones she hadn't shared with Hannibal. What provoked them was even more horrifying than the dream itself.  
  
  
  
Two figures broke from the smashed front door and ran toward the woods where she stood, their nightclothes smeared with soot, their faces white with terror. The person who pushed them out disappeared once more inside to look again. Another window exploded on the upper level. Three of the cottages where in flames, too, and the barn. Lambs screamed in terror as they where chased from their hiding places by a handful of teenage boys. In the West Virginia hills, miles from the nearest town, they didn't expect a fire engine to arrive. Somewhere behind her, a little girl wailed and wailed. "Get her into one of the trucks!" her uncle yelled. "I'm bringing the car around!" "Watch out for snipers." Clarice said to her uncle, looking at him with fear in her eyes. He smiled, despite their position, and was off before she could say another word, back into the house. "Head for Maryland!" her mother shouted, "We'll meet at Rudy's!" Clarice felt a tug on her arm. Her mother stood beside her, panting and afraid. "Where's your uncle?" her mother said, now standing alone with her daughter, her voice was high in pitch. "He went back inside." Clarice said, her voice roughened beyond that of a five year old, thanks to the smoke and the tears, "With Gabe and daddy." Her mothers face paled. She turned to the house, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Ivan!" She started to head for the house, but Clarice grabbed her and held on tight. This wasn't, obviously, the uncle she would be sent to live with. It was the uncle no one knew about. 'What have I done?' Clarice thought. If only she'd stopped those boys. If only she'd told her uncle that they where out of control. She should have taken that lighter from them, but she'd been too afraid and run away. Clarice promised herself she'd never let men get away with it. She promised herself to be strong and to be brave no matter what. To never give in. Figures came around the side of the house. Her father led an older woman, not much older than her mother. Gabe held a shrieking bundle in his arms. Her uncle was nowhere in sight. The fire roared it's victory; and then, with a sickening crack that sounded like a giant's back breaking, a central beam gave way, and the roof collapsed in a peacock tail of sparks and flame. Clarice stood, horrified. "IVAN!!" her mother cried out. But it was too late.  
  
She heard screaming. Crying. Clarice's eyelids burst open to the smell of smoke. She let out a scream and sat up, her breathing shallow in her lungs, and her heart almost falling out of her throat to lay bleeding on the floor. She was sticky with sweat. Why was it so hot in there? She heard screams and people yelling.  
  
"Get 'em outta here! Now!"  
  
"Move! Move!"  
  
She saw smoke dancing its way under the crack of her door as she saw yellow, surreal light in the hallway. 'Oh no…'  
  
She was thankful she was still dressed. She got out of bed and threw her shoes on, not bothering to lace them up. She ran to the door and threw it open, failing to feel the doorknob burn the tender flesh on her hand to the third degree. She jumped back, screaming as flames burst into the room.  
  
I'm going to die in here… she thought. I'm going to die…  
  
Her lungs began to fill with the sour smoke of burning wood and melting metal. She coughed hard, backing up against the wall. Where are those angels when you need them? Her mouth became dry, tasting of blood and tears. The one as hateful as the other.  
  
Her head began to spin, the smoke suffocating her, the flames engulfing her. She backed into a small corner of the room, as far away as she could from the fire. She curled into a ball. She'd read somewhere that when put under a lot of stress, people convert back to childhood. She didn't doubt that now. She began to cry.  
  
"I want my momma!" she yelled. "I want my poppa! Leave me alone!"  
  
Her voice was raspy from the smoke. Her eyes where getting heavy, burning in their sockets, trying to escape the foul smoke of fate. It was only now that she heard the alarms in the hospital, loud and drowning out all other noise. She felt herself starting to slip away from sweet consciousness. She couldn't stop coughing now. She felt the burning heat of the fire all around her.  
  
I'm sorry Hannibal… she thought. I'm sorry I never got to love you…  
  
The fire consumed the room, and Clarice fell backwards, losing the last grip on hope, and losing the final grip on consciousness.  
  
The last thing she heard was-  
  
"Oh my God, Clarice!"  
  
And then she slipped away. 


	4. Angel Of Mine

~Usual Disclaimers blah blah blah. Sorry this took a while, I was helping Dr. Lecter with his. But he returned the favor, so here it is, chapter four! Tada! LOL. It's kinda short, but hey, I'm sick, what'dya expect? C.S.~  
  
Terrible pain. Burning pain. The first two thoughts registered in Clarice Starlings mind. Am I in Hell? Am I dead?  
  
She couldn't pinpoint the source of the pain. It seemed to be all around her. Her eyes slowly opened, her mind afraid of what she might see.  
  
A deep breath was released from her lungs as her eyes opened and her vision blurred. She could smell something. She realized she was moving.  
  
It smells like someone cooking on a wooden stove. Why is it so dark in here? Where IS here?  
  
Her eyes registered tiny balls of light above her. She saw a face above her, and her heart started pounding.  
  
I'm dead. I've been sent to Heaven for judgment. Is this God? An Angel?  
  
She realized this Angel was carrying her. She started to move. She wasn't ready to go yet.  
  
No. Please don't take me. I can't leave. Not yet. Please! Stop!  
  
Why wouldn't her mouth work? She started to wiggle, trying to get out of this Angels grip. That only made the Angel hold onto her tighter.  
  
The Angels face came into view now.  
  
What? Is this some kind of horrible joke? What is this?  
  
Her arms slid around the Angels neck, sliding over its upper back, checking for wings.  
  
He doesn't have wings. Is it really him?  
  
Her voice, as painful as it was to use, finally allowed her to speak. Her voice was weak and low.  
  
"Hannibal?"  
  
"Shh Clarice. It's alright. We're almost there."  
  
It is.  
  
"Where…"  
  
When he just shushed her again, she pulled herself closer to him. So close, he could feel her labored breath on his cheek.  
  
Within minutes, her grip became lose and she fell back into her sleeplike state. 


End file.
